


The Noble Tale of the Force Tree

by primeideal



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arthurian Setting, F/M, Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: When the soldiers of the Rebel Alliance embark on a quest, Cassian called Andor grapples with moral dilemmas and daring marauders alike.





	The Noble Tale of the Force Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magnetgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/gifts).



> Based very loosely on the Grail Quest from "Le Morte d'Arthur."

Of the Vision of Mon Mothma

At the Rebel Base on Dantooine, in the spring of the year, there came upon Mon Mothma a trance. She saw not the work piled before her and heard not the voices of her comrades, and though she stood behind many secure walls, she felt the wind as if standing in a dense forest. Then she saw the mighty trees that had once basked in the light of the Force; how they had brought shade to the traveller and sustenance to the pilgrim, sheltered wild beasts and lived in harmony with the mosses that grew among them.

She felt their agony as they had been felled, years before, by the tools of the Empire that destroyed homes and remade worlds. Felt them splintering into dozens, hundreds, of twigs and fallen leaves, that were trampled underfoot and decayed in the foundations of new and mighty structures.

And then, on the verge of becoming ill, she sensed the tendril of a new seedling sprouting in unfamiliar soil. Hidden and protected by brave guardians, a few trees still bloomed, and their fruit held the promise of new life and growth wherever they might take root next.

When she awoke, she was greatly hungered, so she strode to eat. Then her friend Bail Organa came upon her. Seeing how feverishly she ate, he was set at ease, for he knew that she toiled night and day and scarcely stopped to nourish herself. Now when Bail asked her what had brought her, she told him of how she had fallen into a daze, and what she had seen.

“This is a marvel indeed,” he said. “For this is no faintness of the head. It is surely by the Force you have seen these visions.”

“Can this be?” asked Mon Mothma. “I am but a servant of freedom. No Jedi am I, and no seer.”

“In times such as these,” said Bail, “I doubt not that the Force lights on who it chooses. And there are many ways it may stir. We are not all fated to be warriors or hermits, yet should not we each dwell in balance with the galaxy?” Yet his heart was heavy, for he knew that the hidden Jedi lived in fear and loneliness, and that the daughter of his house held both promise and peril as her birthright.

“It seems to me,” said Mon, “that many of our operatives will desire to quest for this tree. Surely it has the power to heal the body and the spirit, and revive those faint of heart.”

“You speak well,” Bail said. “But this brings me to grief. For many brave and loyal agents are gathered here, and should they scatter in search of this tree, might they never reunite in all the galaxy?”

“We cannot forbid them from going where they will,” Mon said. “Do we not labor for freedom? It is not our right to forbid our companions from taking risks, any more than the Empire might.” And Bail knew the wisdom of her words.

Of the Moon Vagon

Now when the soldiers of the Rebel Alliance heard of the vision of Mon Mothma, they rejoiced to hear it, and many did vow to journey in search of the Force Tree. “For,” said Pao of the water, “we endanger all our brothers and sisters by staying under one roof. Surely we will be safer disguising ourselves, and travelling as strangers?”

Various rebels proceeded to leave Dantooine, and first arrived at the moon called Vagon, which was near Lah’mu. The moon was full of cities where droids traded and acquired new parts and weapons, that they might fit themselves for whatever challenges lay before them.

Among the rebels who came to Vagon was a man named Cassian, called Andor, of Fest. With him came the droid K-2SO, who made the trip freely, though he had little faith in the Force Tree. “It seems,” said K-2, “that the likelihood of an overworked bureaucrat rightly seeing a plant of great power is far less than one chance in a hundred.”

Cassian heeded his words, yet continued on. “What are the chances,” he asked, “that we would live in safety and ease, hidden away on Dantooine? If we must risk our lives on behalf of this rebellion, let us do so where we might repay our enemies double.”

“I must do nothing,” K-2 retorted, “I am an autonomous droid. But I would guard you from your own foolhardiness, so let us leave this desolate moon at once.”

“Nay, not at once,” said Cassian. “We may attract attention by coming and going in haste. Peruse these merchant stalls a while, and perhaps you may find some tool to suit your fancy.”

Then K-2 became vexatious, for he did not wish to waste what few resources they had on a trifle. So he made a show of looking in on every stall, weighing and testing various blasters and binoculars, engine parts and grenades, before he scorned them and moved on to the next display. When night fell, and K-2 feared remaining in the open, he at last purchased a small gravity stabilizer that attached to his arm. “If droids of my visage can fall in line and serve the Empire as tools of war, why may I not appear as a scientific surveyor? For many are the planets where weight deceives the unaware.”

“You have no knack for disguise,” Cassian said. “But what of it? You have played your part here; let us hope that will suffice.”

So the next day they took their leave, and entered into hyperspace.

Of the Planet Chaerah

Cassian had made up his mind to voyage to the planet called Chaerah, near the star Eltharim. “For,” he spoke, “it is said that the weather in many locations around the planet has been erratic lately. Perhaps the Empire’s weapons tests are polluting the atmosphere, and perhaps this is allowing plants to flourish that might not have taken root there before.” And K-2 agreed that his plan was wise.

They arrived in a small ship of the transport class 2F-Nebula, that had served the Rebellion well on many journeys. It was not large or new, nor did it bear the colors of a great planet, but it was ably cloaked and its engine was sturdy. The ship bore no name. “It is a strange sentiment of organics, to give their vessels names,” said K-2. “Why, they scarcely bother to dub with unique names the droids who have minds far outstripping any ship!”

Cassian thought likewise. “I have lost much in the service of freedom. Giving a mere ship a name makes it more than a tool, and now is no time to grow sentimental.”

So they stowed the anonymous ship in an overgrown bramble, near an abandoned airstrip. It was a long walk to the nearest town, but it seemed far from any threats of the Empire. The croplands were unseasonably cold, and the brisk walk warmed Cassian’s body if not his spirit.

The farming settlement they came across was full of Dowrins, their bright orange feathers standing out against the gray sky. “New plants, ah yes, we have some!” chirped a tall Dowrin, her beak bobbing up and down as she talked. “Good for relaxing, yes yes! Humans will like. Bolt-brains, hmm, careful be. Don’t want to burn yourself in the smoke, no no!”

“There is a thirty-six percent chance of her leading us into a trap,” said K-2.

“In a dwelling this remote?” Cassian indicated the vacant horizon. “I suspect we would see it. But as a precaution, you can go first.”

Sulking, K-2 followed the Dowrins to a new field towards the edge of their territory. He found no tree, however, but rather a naca herb, its double leaves curling inward with no sunlight to turn to.

Cassian laughed. “I fear we have no time to enjoy such things, but thank you for your tour.”

“A moment,” said K-2. “Do not many organics partake of such substances? We should acquire some and sell them for a fair price.”

“Not, not!” snapped the Dowrin. “You want buy, you buy from _us_ and from union folk. No cheat!”

“We would not get in the way of your livelihood,” said Cassian, raising a wary hand. To K-2, he added, “For all we have done, we must live by the knot of virtue when we can.”

“Hard times these are,” the Dowrin said. “No shame is there, in breathing air that gives you peace.”

“When the void between the stars is at peace,” Cassian said, “then perhaps I may breathe that air.”

“Till then, you are welcome here,” said the Dowrin. “If you trade squarely, guests are always well met!”

“I am not in need of food,” K-2 noted. “You can assess this risk.”

Cassian pondered it. The orange creatures did not seem particularly trustworthy. Yet he knew the Empire was rife with prejudice, and did not tend to venture into nonhuman villages if they could avoid it. “For a time, I suppose it will do.”

Then the Dowrins made merry at the arrival of such curious visitors, and Cassian took his rest while K-2 kept vigil through the overcast night.

Of the Vessel with No Name

When Cassian and K-2 had been fed, they returned to seek the ship that they had left behind. But when they arrived at the airfield, they found no ship, old or new.

“As I foresaw!” K-2 raged. “These knaves play the fool by day, but they have plundered our means of travel!”

“Be not so quick to judge,” said Cassian. “For they are simple workers of the land. What need have they for great ships? No, the Empire has tendrils everywhere, and they would not hesitate to rob us.”

So they wearily made their way back to the homes of the Dowrins, and beseeched passage on a train to the nearest city. “Alas,” said a Dowrin, “for surely it is the marauders of the air that have wounded you!”

“Marauders of the air?” Cassian echoed. “Do you speak of the legions of the Empire?”

“We know not who they serve,” said another. “They have no feathers, but they soar like birds, and there is no lock they cannot break.”

“This is a fearsome threat indeed,” said Cassian. “But we shall not linger here or put you at risk. Let us make haste to the city, and then woe to any marauders who threaten us.”

So they rode the train to the city Nishyi. K-2SO was aggrieved, for he was too tall for the compartments and had to lie across several seats, but there were few passengers to interfere with them.

Nishyi was bitterly cold, and many of the humans there wore heavy cloaks. A few droids kicked their way through snow and slush. They were mostly small and agile units, built for urban labor. Now and then an organic gave K-2 a strange look, as he towered above them. But though Cassian was quite chilled, he gave no sign of discomfort, for he knew well how to appear to be a simple passerby.

“The probability of a tree growing in this climate—” K-2 began.

“Desist,” said Cassian. “If we are to place stock in visions, who is to say if they are of times past or times yet to come? For my part, I will be contented to oppose the Imperial loyalists.”

“You can start,” said K-2, “with opposing the brutes who look askance at me. Far we may be from the great edifices of the Core, but even so; I should be as quaint as a distant moon, not a rare eclipse.”

“Nay!” said Cassian. “For what betokens innocence so much as being unaware of the works of the Imperial factories? It is those who pay you no heed that we must suspect.”

“I suppose,” K-2 admitted. “Then watch you the old human in the thick fur garment. For he has passed us by, but his eyes flickered not to me. If he turns away from his path, it is only to regard the sky.”

“I see him,” Cassian nodded. “Let us approach, but take care. There are dangers here yet unseen.”

Of Deeds Done in the Name of Freedom

Cassian and K-2 followed the old human down several city blocks, keeping a safe distance behind a crowd. He arrived at a nondescript apartment complex, entering and disappearing into the hallways.

“If only we had these pirates at our disposal!” Cassian cried mirthlessly, “We might prowl within his chambers.”

“Avoiding them entirely seems a safer option by far,” K-2 noted.

“Do not lose heart.”

“Of course not. I have no cardiac apparatus.”

Cassian sighed. “Did you record him with your sensors?”

“I didn’t obtain high-quality video files, but some stills from diverse angles, yes.”

“That will be easier to upload to our intelligence networks, anyway. When you have the opportunity, cross-check for noted Imperials.”

“Once we are on a suitably encrypted connection,” said K-2, “I will gladly do so!”  


Absent their ship, the rebels had to content themselves with acquiring lodgings in a rundown droid establishment. K-2 paid extra in credits to set up his own firewalls, but by the morning, had pronounced himself satsified with the efforts of his search.

“This fellow is not an Imperial enlistee,” he said, “but a civilian contractor. His name is Jarlin Gurhock, and he is a prospector in hypermatter.”

“Hypermatter? Out here?”

“It is not as efficient as raw coaxium, but much stabler. If it could be produced in mass quantities, it would be a great boon to transit.”

“That,” said Cassian, “is a problem for brighter minds than my own.”

“For an organic,” said K-2, “I find your mental capacity to be impressive.”

“I am flattered.” Cassian gathered his belongings and sped towards the door, not regarding K-2.

They patrolled Gurhock’s neighborhood for hours, not seeing much out of the ordinary besides the weather. K-2 occasionally told Cassian to pause, for both their benefits; Cassian needed to engage in “biological maintenance,” while K-2 had to filter through the stream of visual data he’d taken, choosing a few images to store and discarding the rest. “This would be much easier with a reliable connection to our ship.”

“No,” said Cassian. “It would not.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one optimizing your own memory.”

“Your job is easier.”

As Gurhock returned from his labors, he turned the corner to approach his building, only to be alarmed by a small pinprick on the back of his neck. He stumbled, then winced, but continued forward.

Cassian sprinted to intercept him. “Don’t bother running. We know you’re working with the pirates.”

“What pirates?” Gurhock blurted. “I’ve never heard of any pirates!”

It was a response Cassian had heard dozens of times. Accuse people of Imperial loyalty and they’d either have reinforcements on him before he could make a retreat, or spout nonsense trying to justify it. Better to catch them off-guard, have them ready to incriminate themselves. “You’ve been here too long to claim ignorance. The marauders who hotwire ships. You’ve done business with them.”

“No!” Gurhock pleaded. “I wouldn’t trust them with half a credit.” He coughed, then began to rasp. “I don’t need any more enemies.”

“Jullica venom,” said Cassian. “Harmless, if treated quickly. If left to spread, the effects can be...unpleasant.”

“You’re mad,” said Gurhock. “What do you want with a man like me? I’m nobody.”

“Precisely. Which is why it’s really in both our interests for you to tell me where I might find them, and for me to pass along this antidote.” He reached into a light jacket, no match for the mighty winds, and pulled out a small vial. “Before it slips through my fingers.”

“Beyond the docks, near the Elthau Port,” Gurhock whispered. “Looks like a front for a naca ring, but there’s too much traffic passing through. If they haven’t gotten scared yet...”

“Good enough.” Cassian handed him the vial, and Gurhock drunk it down hastily. Cassian paced away a few steps, as if trying to remember the way back to his lodgings.

When the contractor had ceased breathing, K-2 hurried to search his pockets, and relieve him of his heavy coat.

Of the Toilers of the Docks

Cassian kept his head down as they made their way to the docks, in brooding as much as in anonymity. Gurhock’s garment was a bit large for him, but guarded well against the cold.

There was far worse than petty theft he had done, and would do again, he reminded himself. Gurhock was a tool of the Empire, and there was no merit in leaving him alive to report them. All the same…

“Aquatic transit seems outdated for this area,” K-2 noted. “For upwards of sixty percent of the year, ice is likely to preclude effective transportation.”

“No one ever accused pirates of subterfuge,” said Cassian.

They drew near to the Elthau Port, and Cassian steeled himself for whatever lay ahead. Were the marauders after credits? Resources? Weapons? If so, they would be disappointed—among the Rebellion’s meager fleet, many ships, including their own, were designed for transit and stealth more than firepower.

And then a vaguely-humanoid shape soared overhead. Was it powered by repulsorlift? Some avian evolutionary adaptation? The Force?

Cassian reached for his blaster, trying to gauge where to aim to impair its flight. But before he could get off a shot, the thing buckled in midair and headed into a half-controlled descent.

K-2 lowered his arm, as the gravity stabilizer automatically powered off.

Taking advantage of the initiative, Cassian armed himself, but held his fire. “Don’t move. We want our ship back.”

The voice that rang back was mechanical, as if a droid encased in another sheath of metal had spoken. “What ship?”

“A transport class 2F-Nebula.”

“Ha!” said the pirate. “Common they may be, but what would a Chaerahish human be doing seeing the galaxy in one of those?”

“I am no human,” said K-2, “nor Chaerahish neither. Unless you wish to find yourself re-launched into the atmosphere, I suggest you answer my friend’s questions.”

“Indeed you are not Chaerahish. There are more than enough planets where you K-X models can take orders; go harass one of them.”

“Even if I did follow orders,” said K-2, “I would need a ship for that.”

The pirate stood wordlessly for a moment. Then, slowly, she pressed a toggle to remove her helm. Within stood a young human female. Her visage was befreckled, and her hair was scarlet, bright as fire. Cassian found her beautiful, though he was loath to say it even unto himself, as he thought it unfit that a soldier of the Rebellion should be so entranced while on a quest.

“My name,” she said, “is Enfys. And who are you, K-X droid who has no master?”

“I am K-2SO,” he said.

“Well met, K-2SO. I would welcome you here, and let us speak of many things.”

“I would be right glad to speak,” said K-2. “But where I am welcome, I would see you welcome Cassian, called Andor. For he is no master, nor a son of Chaerah, but a comrade and a friend.”

Enfys turned her gaze on Cassian, and he tried to betray no fear. “Who are you, Cassian called Andor, to have earned the loyalty of such a nonpareil droid?”

“That,” Cassian said, “is a question I ask myself frequently, and have as many answers as days. For not all of us veil our faces to disguise ourselves. Some don and doff names as oft as we regard our robes.”

“That is so,” said Enfys. “But if you would join me, I would regard your words and not your garments. Perhaps you may even encounter the ship you claim.”

“Right gladly,” said Cassian. And he gave no sign that he was anything but eager to regain the 2F-Nebula. But in truth, part of him was of a sudden content to remain on Chaerah for a spell.

Of the Cloud Riders

K-2 told his tale as if on an iterative loop. First, a brief summary of his creation and skills. Enfys seemed intrigued, and even invited some of her fellows to join them once they reached a warehouse of sorts near the docks. They were vested in similar helmets, and were mostly human beneath.

K-2 elaborated and spoke of how he’d been granted autonomous programming. Enfys’ companions—who called themselves the Cloud Riders—at first wondered if they might duplicate his code. When he informed them that would be impractical as well as ethically troublesome, they mused quietly about how to free other droids, with the same concern for legality as they showed for “liberating” others’ ships.

Emboldened, he spoke further, of his trust in Cassian. Of the sights they had seen together. And at last, when he was repeating himself for the half-dozenth time, of their loyalty to the Rebel Alliance.

“So it’s true?” Enfys breathed. “There are Senate politicians, who lead others in the struggle for freedom?”

“If you think ill of it,” said Cassian, “speak or be silent. But know that as K-2 thought nothing of overriding your gravity device, he will not hesitate to blow this building to rubble with all of us inside, rather than letting you betray our secrets.”

“You misunderstand me,” said Enfys, but she gave a smile. “For years, our society has labored to serve rebellion, distributing wealth and reclaiming power from the great to the meager. We believed the more orderly portions of society would never deign to join us—that they would seek peace at any cost, even if it meant the subjugation of sentients across the galaxy. If you share our fight, then that is true cause for hope indeed.”

“Perhpas it is my leaders you envision,” Cassian said. “But my hands are far from clean. Ever since my childhood, I have shed blood and sweat for the Rebellion. I am no paragon of virtue. At times I wonder if I may even claim more virtue than those I oppose.”

“Have you spoken to them?” Enfys asked. “Do you suppose they even wonder at all?”

“Ah, I speak in vanity,” he said. “It is your calling to pillage and prosper, not to console my weary conscience.”

“I speak not from tenderheartedness,” said Enfys, “but experience. For I, too, came to this life as a child. And I, too, have sought clarity of purpose. Yet always I find my fulfillment here—knowing the truth in the hearts of my comrades.”

“You pirates must be efficient indeed,” Cassian said, “if you can care for matters of the heart as well as the wallet.”

“Some turn their hearts to their neighbors,” said Enfys, “and some to the will of the Force, and some to devising more subtle engines for swoop bikes. For my part, I say, cherish what you will. For how can we fight, if we see no light on the horizon to labor for?”

“It is so,” said Cassian, and kissed her heartily. Then he stepped away and said, “Forgive me, noble Enfys, for there is the matter of my ship, and it is not right I should startle you so before settling any debt I may have with your clan.”

“Startle?” Enfys laughed. “Speak not as if I have never seen a handsome gentleman, for though I could not be certain of your sentiments, still I hoped right well we might be of one accord.” And then she kissed him in reply.

Of the Rewards of Toil

Several of the Cloud Riders had been inspecting the Rebellion vessel, but had not as of yet made any modifications to it. They spoke merrily of how Cassian and K-2 might secure it better in the future, to guard against any further theft. “For the scoundrels of the Empire are no match for our craft,” said one effusive Rodian. “But they might by time and effort try to stymie you.”

“Thank you,” said K-2. “If I may be of assistance upgrading your technology, please let me know. I suspect your communication systems might be augmented by up to fifteen percent with few additional resources.”

So he busied himself seeing to the headquarters’ security. But Cassian was heavy of heart, and after their meal, sat in solitude near the walls.

Enfys was sore from his absence, and sought him out. “What ails you? Do not grieve for your departure, for now that we have met each other, there shall be bonds strong and brilliant among our forces. Few and poor we Cloud Riders may be, but even we know how to speak through hyperspace, as if the stars did not divide us.”

“I dare not mourn our parting,” said Cassian, “knowing that you will continue to wage war with all your strength and wisdom. It is only this trifling fancy: that what brought me here was a vision—not my own—of a tree that was full of the Force, with healing and power in its roots.”

“There is no shame in following one trajectory to arrive at an unexpected goal,” said Enfys. “I did not intend to meet a lover by purloining a ship, yet here we are.”

“It is not the diversion of my itinerary that shames me,” said Cassian, “but my own actions along the way. For who but the pure of heart may achieve such a prize? And I am far from pure; I have failed to be true to my own ideals more times than I can name.”

“I will not ask you to name them,” said Enfys. “But I would reckon you could name many times, if you so chose. As could I.”

Cassian stared down at his heavy coat. “Is it true you thought me Chaerahish?”

“My espionage skills are poor, I fear. We rely on force and intimidation, and it is not my habit of piercing disguises. Yes, you seemed a local, at first glance and second.”

“It seems I am always playing at spycraft even when I do not intend,” he admitted. “I wore it less in disguise than in protection from the elements. And perhaps less in protection than in penance. I killed a man, not because he was threatening me, but because he was in the way. If I bear his habit, can I set down my own burden?”

“Hmm,” said Enfys. “Who was he, in life?”

“A hypermatter prospector. Civilian, but loyal to the empire.”

Her eyes flashed, but she remained still. “That is all you know?”

“In life,” said Cassian, “his name was Jarlin Gurhock.” It was the first time he had spoken the name, and he repeated it. He could not erase what he had done, but he could remember. Perhaps without letting it weigh on him.

“I see,” said Enfys. “I do not yet know you as well as I wish, Cassian, but you seem a man to do nothing by halves. Did you perhaps confiscate his identifying documents?”

“A few,” said Cassian. “K-2 has them.”

“And do you think K-2 would favor sharing them with some of the Cloud Riders, who might know best how to embezzle hypermatter from his accounts?”

“I suspect he would.”

“Then before you make for that quaint ship of yours, let us do business,” said Enfys. “Perhaps none of us are pure in heart, but there are quests even we may achieve.”

Cassian kissed her, his joy resurgent. “I am delighted to learn from your wisdom.”

Of the Splendor of Winter

Now there are some in the galaxy who have likened true love unto spring, and to the new sights and scents that flourish therein. And some who liken it unto summer, where the days are hot and long. And some who liken it unto autumn, when the world puts forth a multitude of colors and textures underfoot.

But wise indeed are those who say that true love is like winter. For it is when the waters are covered over with ice that one may cross to parts unknown and discover unseen marvels, but must tread carefully and in trust. And as the many snowflakes that descend from the sky are various in their patterns, yet all radiating out with the same rich complexity, so too are there many who love in diverse ways, but all rich and wondrous to behold. When the nights are long and reveal the myriad motions of the stars, then those who dwell on planets and moons below look to the heavens, and dare to chart new courses amidst the galaxy.

So was it that Cassian and Enfys came to love, deeply and truly, among the winter of Chaerah. And as the winds blow fiercely and nearly force the traveller to change direction, so were there many hardships in store for them and for the galaxy in the years to come. But as footprints in the snow leave an imprint of where the traveller has been, so did their exploits leave a mark on the galaxy, that none who crossed their paths could but doubt they were in the presence of champions of freedom.


End file.
